Many Generations - Linda Allen

Seasons come & seasons go, to learn the things that women know

Plant the seeds and tend the land, Working hearts and working hands

If seeds are scattered to the wind, Like broken hearts or might-have-beens

Daughters plant them once again

Many generations.

Many generations.

Grandma held a burning light

Read her Bible every night

Found the faith to carry on

With sons and husband dead and gone

And in my darkest times I see

Grandma’s light enfolding me

And tho' her faith’s a different hue

Grandma, I remember you

Many generations.

Many generations.

My mother takes her own sweet time

Drinks her days like vintage wine

In the kitchen I can hear

Her voice is rising sweet and clear

Raised her kids and worked too hard

Planted roses in our yard

In the fall she pruned’em back

Kids and roses needed that

Many generations.

Many generations.

Now my daughters make their way

I smile to hear the things they say

So many seeds I tried to plant

Nurtured now in their strong hands

Fingers dance on their guitars

Songs as true as shooting stars

Grandma’s light is burning still

I believe it always will

Many generations.

Many generations.